


quote unquote "you"

by gladiatorAviator



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords
Genre: M/M, Necromancy, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 04:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18438686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorAviator/pseuds/gladiatorAviator
Summary: Look, it's you, good as new.





	quote unquote "you"

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lemon Demon's song "Lifetime Achievement Award"
> 
> enjoy

_Due to my strong personal convictions_  
_I wish to stress_  
_That this record_  
_In no way endorses_  
_A belief_  
_In the Occult_

You’ve been gone for way too long.

Like half a year. Or more. Your entire career. For some time now.

Dirt fills your mouth and nose, rattling empty, rushing full. There’s gleaming steel that rests on top of you, the pommel resting on your silent heart. Your lungs are emptied, filled with stale air that teases your dried mouth. You burnt your family tree, hoping that the fire would keep you warm but it didn’t. It never had. 

_What family?_

Something reaches towards you. A hand, perhaps? You’re not quite sure. Do you reach towards it?

_Yes._

\---

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but perhaps it’ll be better that way.

Newly forged. A fake, but enough like the real thing to pass. That’s what you want, right? You want him back. You want him back so desperately. It fills your every waking moment, thinking about him. Maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad, had he survived. But no. You’re there. You’re here. 

You know the feeling intimately now. It’s been flowing around you, keeping you from distractions like sleeping and eating. It’s heady, it’s full, it calls, it calls to you like you call to him. Do you think he hears you?

_Yes._

Your conviction scares you.

\---

Noise is a strange thing to you. Static, fluent. It can shout, and scream, and whisper, and cry, but to you it’s all the same. A flash of light, a kickstart to your heart. 

_We’ll get it beating tomorrow, I promise. I promise. I promise._

Every promise is broken. Tomorrow never comes. It hasn’t so far. No need to keep believing the noise, but you do anyway. Hope? You’re not quite sure what that is. It’s an itch that keeps you awake, even as you sink deeper. Will it ever leave? You’re growing so tired.

\---

They keep calling you. They think you’ve gone insane. Of course you haven’t. Of course you haven’t. You just want him back. Don’t they want him back too? They were so good to you at the start. They would bring you warm meals, talk with you. Listen. They used to listen. Why don’t they listen anymore? 

_You’re going in too deep,_ they say. _We’re worried about you. You need to stop._

Well, you’re not worried about _them_ anymore. They never believed you in the first place. Of course they never believed you. Why did you put your trust in them? You should know by now the only person you can rely on is yourself. 

You don’t sleep anymore. They haunt you there. You’re done listening to their voices.

\---

_Why didn’t you let me sleep?_ is your first cry of fresh air. _You’re the one who kept me awake! You’re the one who kept me awake! Why didn’t you let me go?_

Your bones rattle inside shrunken skin. Your heart pounds, thundering you open further with each beat. Were you ever alive in the first place? Was this how it felt? Everything burns as your blood flows through you. Was this even blood in the first place? What are you filled with?

You’re a natural. Unnatural. Yes. You always have been.

You open your throat and you feel the centipedes and ants within scramble for purchase. You scream, and the air leaves so forcefully, so quickly. You bellow again, and you can hear stone crack above you as you yell wordlessly. 

He looks so helpless in front of you. He looks more dead than you are. Circles dominate his face, purple underscored eyes, lines and calluses showing sharp bone beneath. Sunken. Caught in an eternal scream. In needle fingers you see him holding a leatherbound book, cracked and falling apart. Of course he would do this. Of course he would do this.

_The dead should sleep!_ you bellow at him, and you don’t even mind seeing the tears in his eyes. He can create more any time you like. Your bones crack and shatter as you walk uneven. So stiff. _Why did you wake me?_

He sobs something, but you can’t hear it. All sounds are just noises to you. Static. Fluid. 

You don’t care. 

You’ve been awake for far too long.


End file.
